The One Who Seeks
by Rikue
Summary: The full story of Saemus Dumar and his involvement with the Qunari. Includes his relationship with Ashaad, and several side drabbles with Hawke and company. Rated M for smut, profanity, and some violence. Saemus/Ashaad, and mention of M!Hawke/Fenris. The story is complete and I will be uploading chapters regularly. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

First of all, I own nothing! All characters and lore are property of Bioware.

I owe a big thanks to Elendraug and Remedy for Chaos, as they inspired me greatly and are the only other authors (that I know of) who have written M Rated fanfiction about this pairing. I also need to thank ~layclay of DeviantArt for her beautiful artwork of these two called "Other Ways".

And with that said, I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

Saemus had always been one to wander, and it was during one of his many trips to the Wounded Coast that he met the man who would change his life forever.

A lone Qunari was trekking up the coast toward him. He immediately ducked behind a bush, not halting to consider that the creature may have already seen him. When he peered out of the foliage, he saw the ox-man looking at a large paper in his hands, who then raised his gaze and proceeded closer.

He was nearly on top of Saemus when he stopped, smelling the air.

"Do not hide human, it will not save you."

Saemus stood straight, seeing now that the creature was a giant, far larger than he had thought from afar. His hair was white, resting beneath a set of great horns. His gray skin was painted crimson, with dye or blood, Saemus wasn't sure, and he donned several pieces of golden jewelry.

"I'm sorry, I… I like to walk the coast sometimes." He told the ox-man, "I mean you no harm."

"Your purpose is of no concern to me, but do not stand in my way." He moved around him, and Saemus stood for a moment, bewildered.

That was enough of an adventure for him, and so he began the long journey home. That night Saemus lay awake, thinking of his encounter with the alien. He knew little about the Qunari, but quickly concluded that his father's library would have something on them. Saemus soon discovered what an understatement that was.

One book led to another, and after reading for several hours, he fell asleep.

* * *

He awoke to a hand on his shoulder, it was morning, and as he lifted his head he saw that the hand belonged to his father.

"My son, what were you doing with these?" The Viscount asked, referring to the many controversial texts that were littered around him.

"Hmm?" He roused, "Oh, I was… The Qunari are in the city now, so I thought I should study them."

"Yes, I suppose it is wise to be prepared for what we're up against." The Viscount mused, "Good work, son."

He stroked his boy's head before retreating to whatever duties awaited him. Saemus wasted no time getting ready, and after slipping past the Seneschal, he was off to the coast again.

After an hour long walk, he found the Qunari again, certain that it was the same one he had met the day before. This time, he approached it willingly.

"Hello again, human." It spoke.

"Shanedan" Saemus said, speaking the alien's tongue. The Qunari turned sharply, and for a moment the boy feared he may strike him, but he simply stared, his expression unreadable.

"You speak the Qunlat." It's shadowy eyes narrowed at him.

"Yes, I… I know only a few words." He confessed, then extended his hand, "My name is Saemus Dumar."

"The son of the Viscount." The Qunari added.

"I… Yes." Saemus said, withdrawing his hand. His head lowered a bit at the recognition.

"Does it displease you?" The giant asked.

"No, but… When people realize who I am… they treat me differently."

"I have known your identity since our meeting yesterday." The Qunari told him, "It earns you no special treatment from me."

Saemus was silent for a moment. Oddly grateful, he finally said, "Thank you. Would you… tell me your name?"

"I am Ashaad."

"You are a scout, then?"

"Yes." It began to move away from him.

"But scouts usually travel in groups." Saemus noted, following the ox-man, "Why are you alone?"

"Because my task requires only one."

"And what task is that?"

"I am making maps of this area for the Arishok."

"I see." He remarked.

"Have you no more questions?"

"I have many." Saemus smiled.

"Perhaps I have answers." The Qunari told him.

This continued for many days. Ashaad would walk and make notes to his maps while Saemus followed, somewhat like a lost child. Most of the time they were silent, but occasionally he would ask a question, which almost always received an answer. Other days the human would prattle on about nothing in particular, driving the horned one mad.

On the seventh day of traveling with the scout, he asked Ashaad about more intimate matters.

"You mate, obviously. Otherwise your people wouldn't be so numerous." Saemus began, and the creature glanced back at him awkwardly, "But under what pretense? Is it arranged, or divided by branch? Is there some sort of bond involved?"

"You ask many different things." Ashaad told him, "We mate in order to breed, based on matches that will create the strongest offspring. It is structured. We also create bonds, not only to those we mate with, but with our brethren and friends."

"So, do you mate for any other purpose? Or is it only to procreate?"

"During celebrations, things can become… out of hand." Ashaad said, "And in some instances the people may mate to relive stress. Otherwise, we brawl to dissolve tension, so there is no other need for intimacy."

"What about love?"

"What is your question?"

"Do the Qunari have love?" Saemus asked him, and Ashaad halted.

"Yes, it is comparable to the bond I spoke of." He said, "Humans seem to have a different bond with many people, but in the Qun it is either one or the other. I have a bond with many of my people, and were I using your tongue, I would say that I love them."

"Could you ever have a bond with a Viddathari?"

"If that Viddathari were worthy." The Qunari answered, then turned, "Why?"

"I would feel honored to be bound to you." Saemus said, a light scarlet tingeing his cheeks.

"You are not Viddathari."

"I would like to be."

"You are _imekari_, a child." The Qunari spoke.

"Do not call me that!" Saemus snapped, "I know it is an insult."

"No, were you older it would be demeaning. But you are not. And it matters little." Ashaad said, "You wish me to be something I am not."

"No, Ashaad, I wish nothing but for you to accept me as I am." Saemus said, tears brimming his eyes.

The Qunari stepped towards him, his eyes sincere, "I already have."

Saemus stared into his eyes, they were dark, and opaque with an amber ring in the center that he'd never stood close enough to see. In them, he searched for a reason, any reason to stop him from doing something that would probably be of great disrespect to them both, but he couldn't. He pushed forward, closing the space between them, and let their lips come crashing together. The scout braced his arms forcefully, and at first Saemus believed he would push him away, but he didn't, and his grip gradually softened; Their lips hadn't parted.

When they broke it was mutual. Saemus immediately touched his mouth, knowing that what he'd done was foreign to the ox-man, if not insulting.

When he looked up, he saw the Qunari avert his gaze, refusing to look at him.

"Ashaad, I-"

"You need to leave, human." The scout spoke, "You are in the way of my task."

And so he did, not daring to speak again.

* * *

That night, sleep evaded the Qunari. Intimacy among the people was generally overlooked, but the cost of such closeness with an outsider was great. He had no choice but to tell the Arishok, knowing full well that for disgracing his blood in such a way, he himself would likely be executed once he completed his task.

When he went to report the next day, he found the Arishok speaking with a human. He greatly resembled the boy who had followed him along the coast. They weren't of kin, he guessed, but the dark hair and stark blue eyes were relatable. He recognized this person as the one called Hawke, accompanied by the strange looking elf who spoke their tongue.

"Here is one of the Ashaad." The scout stepped forward at his commander's behest, "Hawke was just speaking about the Tal-Vashoth he has encountered on the coast. Have you anything to report?"

"Yes, Arishok." Ashaad said, "But it is in regard to my own honor, and of no relation to the Tal-Vashoth."

"Speak" He demanded, and the scout complied.

"I told you in my reports of the human who followed me during my task," He began, "I allowed him to come to me in a gesture that their kind considers to be intimate."

Hawke sensed that the Arishok was not pleased, though he had never known the opposite to be true either.

"Improper relations with your people is not a common problem, Hawke." Their leader said, "The normal punishment for such is execution, as it is a sin under the Ariqun for a Qunari to soil itself with one who is not equally avowed." The leader paused, "Matters involving your people and mine are becoming more frequent, so I will ask: What would you do in my place?"

Hawke then looked to the scout, and asked, "What do you mean when you say that you partook in an intimate gesture?"

"He pressed his mouth against mine, and I did not move to distance myself."

Based on the expressions of the Qunari surrounding them, he guessed the scout would be taunted about this later. He wondered why someone would do such a thing as to kiss a Qunari, or more likely, why a Qunari would tolerate such a display. But he didn't have much time to ponder that now.

"And who is it that kissed you?"

"Saemus Dumar, the offspring of the one you call Viscount."

Fenris furrowed his brow and muttered, "Be careful, Hawke."

Hawke knew Saemus, he was adventurous and curious, but he had a better head than his father would admit. Acting reckless was something he didn't do needlessly.

"I understand that you risked a great deal allowing such a thing," Hawke said, "But so did he. If someone in his position were known to be fraternizing with Qunari…" The mage sighed, "There is an equal chance that his life is in danger as well as yours."

The creature's eyes widened, and that was when Hawke knew: They cared a great deal for each other, even if they'd yet to realize it.

Hawke turned to the great horned man who sat atop his throne, "I know Saemus, Arishok, your Ashaad is keeping company with someone I greatly respect."

"And as you have mine, Hawke, I will trust your word." He then looked to the scout, "You will continue your task as assigned, and associate with the human at your own discretion."

Ashaad bowed deeply, not only to the Arishok but to Hawke as well. It was as if a weight had been taken from his chest.

Hawke left the compound with the mind to find Saemus. He'd seen him frequent the Hanged Man on occasion, usually after a disagreement with his father became public. It was just dangerous enough to draw him, but safe enough to be a reprieve.

And just as he'd hoped, the Viscount's son was sitting at the bar, brooding over a drink. He wore a hood, but Hawke knew well enough who he was.

"Excuse me, sir." Hawke approached him, but he didn't respond. Laying a hand on his shoulder, the boy flinched, and Hawke lowered his voice, "We need to talk. Would you come upstairs with me?"

Saemus nodded cautiously and followed the taller man upstairs. Instinctively, Hawke went to Varric's room, believing that the dwarf wouldn't mind his presence. On his way, he nodded to Fenris for him to pursue them, and he did. The elf kept his distance though, and stayed just by the top of the stairs.

Once they were inside, Hawke turned, and they stood face to face.

"I spoke to the Arishok today." Hawke started.

"Yes, I heard that you visit him often." Saemus said, trying to sound quaint. He'd had plenty of time to learn the proper way to speak to nobility, and though Hawke had earned his prestige quickly, he'd made sure to keep tabs on his public actions.

"While I was there, he was confronted by a scout who knew you." At his words, Saemus blanched, but Hawke continued, "Apparently you two have become quite close during your time together on the Wounded Coast."

"Hawke, stop, it's not what you think-" Saemus said, dropping the pretense.

"Then explain it to me." He said eagerly.

"I… He and I, we're just..." The boy was a terrible liar, and he knew it. Saemus exhaled sharply, "How much do you know exactly?"

"I know that you kissed him, and that he didn't stop it." Hawke replied, "Maybe even welcomed it."

"Oh, Maker… Hawke, please, you can't tell anyone!" Saemus pleaded, "I love him, even though we're different. I know you can't understand what that's like, but please-"

"Saemus, I know _exactly_ what that's like." Hawke told him. The mage's eyes found Fenris, waiting by the stairs, and Saemus followed his gaze.

"You do." Saemus swallowed, "I see now." He paused, turning to Hawke, "Are you two…?"

The older man simply nodded.

"That's wonderful." Saemus smiled softly, but the light faded, "And you don't have to concern yourself with this. Ashaad doesn't want to see me."

Hawke opened his mouth to argue, to tell him how Ashaad's face had fell when he heard that Saemus could have been hurt, but he decided against it; Such words would be far more valuable from the tongue of his lover.

Then Saemus asked, "I should guess that he told the Arishok of our encounter." And the boy sighed, the way one does with a heavy heart, "Did he seem upset?"

"Yes." With his answer, Saemus shut his eyes in pain, "But I think I may have said something that helped to sway him."

The boy's eyes opened slowly, watching Hawke intently.

The mage explained, "It was a simple comment, I can't even remember it, but I'd like to think it helped."

"Thank you." He chuckled in disbelief, then said, "It's nice to know someone's on my side, even if he's the only one."

"Of course I'm with you." Hawke grinned, "You're always determined to be a thorn in someone's side. It reminds me of myself a bit."

"The way I see it, as the son of the Viscount my actions will be dissected and criticized regardless of which stance I take." Saemus said, "So I might as well try and do some good."

"You are wise beyond your years, Saemus Dumar." Hawke said, shaking his head, "But we've talked long enough. If anyone sees us, or Maker forbid, hears us…"

Saemus nodded, and Hawke touched his shoulder as he went, retreating back down the stairs.

Fenris came in a moment later, and questioned, "May I ask what you said to him?"

Hawke told him willingly, though he spared the part about their relationship, as Fenris wasn't one to acknowledge openly.

* * *

The next day, Ashaad was alone on the coast. And the same was true for the day after that as well. By the fourth day, he was growing mad with the silence, and was furious to admit that he missed the human greatly. _Saemus_, he corrected himself. A creature such as him did not deserve to be called a human, as he was nothing like the vashedan swines.

His thoughts were muddled, and it was sunset before he'd finished the day's task. He cursed himself for his affliction, and again his mind strayed to the moment that had caused the mess. The boy stepped forward, pressing those wretched lips against his own. It was vile. And he wanted nothing more than to feel it again.

The scout's chest ached badly, and a heavy sigh escaped him. He looked toward the city and saw that Kirkwall was visible, lightly aglow in the darkening sky. He'd made his decision.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

Smut, ahoy!

* * *

The halls of the Keep were silent, as much of the staff had gone away with the Viscount on his trip to Tantervale, one of the Free Marches' more populous city-states. Saemus had refused the invitation to join him, on the grounds that he wished to continue his studies. The truth of course was that he didn't want to be involved in the meeting that would take place. His father was seeking allies in the event of a Qunari invasion, and since he couldn't guarantee his ability to stay silent in such matters, he had elected to stay behind.

Saemus lay awake, turning in his sheets with much on his mind. He envied the certainty the Qunari had, their honor, and their way of judging people based on their merits, rather than who a person's father was. He loved their culture, and their religion. He wanted to convert to the Qun.

In a rage he threw back the sheets, and headed for the door. It opened before he reached it.

He froze, and a shadowy figure entered.

"Who's there." He called out, his voice stern.

"A concerned friend." A sister of the Chantry stepped into the pale light that filtered through the window.

"A priestess?" He raised a brow, "You can't just come in here." Remembering his scant attire he added, "This is severely inappropriate."

Going to the wardrobe he withdrew a robe and pulled it on hastily.

"Why have you come here?" He asked her, holding a match to the oil lamp on his desk.

Light flooded the room, finally allowing him a good look at her. She looked prude, the face of a fox with short blonde hair, and dressed in the robes of the Chantry. Something in his gut told him she wasn't to be trusted.

"My name is Sister Petrice," She introduced herself, "And a rather unfortunate piece of gossip has been floating about as of late."

He may as well have turned to stone, because the cold that consumed him was unlike anything he'd ever felt.

"You need to leave." He warned her.

"Do you even regret the sins you've committed?" Petrice said, reversing his order to the point that she actually stepped closer.

"I have done nothing!" Saemus snapped, his voice raising.

"You have defiled the Maker! And now you are lost to him!" The sister argued, her voice heightening as well.

"If I am lost to the Maker for refusing to hate someone, for finding beauty in the 'other', then perhaps the Maker is the one who is not worthy of me." With his words, a look of shock crossed the sister's face, "There are other ways to see the world. The Qunari have shown me that." Then added, "Now get out of my house before I call the guard."

The woman stormed off more violently than a bull with a hornet's nest up its arse. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, "Good riddance."

He exhaled heavily, knowing that his involvement with the Qunari was no longer a secret. He was certain that Hawke hadn't told anyone. Perhaps his elven lover had said something? He'd never heard the elf speak to anyone, so that was unlikely as well. Which meant someone had overheard them at the Hanged Man, or perhaps someone at the compound? It didn't matter now.

Saemus was just about to remove his robe when there was a knock at the door. Flames of rage sparked inside him, and he went to the threshold fully expecting to see the Sister come to argue again. He jerked the door open, full of anger, and all at once it dissipated.

A hooded figure stood before him, and he saw immediately that horns were visible beneath the cloth.

"Ashaad" He said breathlessly.

"May I come in?" The Qunari asked, stoic as always.

"Of course." Saemus stepped back, allowing him to enter.

"I made sure I was not seen." Ashaad declared, removing his cloak.

"Thank you, but it matters little." Saemus sighed, "Everyone knows about what happened."

"It matters much." Ashaad corrected him, "Had they seen me, they would have stopped me from coming to you."

The boy gazed up at him, and saw something unfamiliar in his eyes. What was it? Pain?

"I have not returned to the coast." He said flatly, and then his voice lowered, "I was afraid…" he hesitated, but met Saemus' gaze, "I am glad you are well."

"You told me to leave." Saemus reminded him.

"I did not ask that you never return." Ashaad said, and there was pain in his voice as well.

There was a moment of silence between them.

"You… missed me." Saemus said, unsure if the words were for Ashaad or himself.

The Qunari looked away, "Yes"

Saemus gently placed a hand on the giant's cheek. He tilted his head to look at him, and for a moment, their gaze was locked. His eyes moved upward, studying his horns.

"May I… touch them?" Seamus asked.

"You must know it is an act of intimacy." Ashaad warned him, then said, "You may."

Seamus reached up carefully, letting his palm stroke the crest. Ashaad inhaled sharply, closing his eyes at the touch. He'd made it clear that this was something only a mate was permitted to do, and now he knew why. This was sensual, and as he massaged them, Ashaad's breathing slowed.

When he stopped, there was a moment of quiet and Ashaad's eyes fluttered open. Suddenly the Qunari surged forward, closing the space between them. Their lips crashed together, breaking and reconnecting recklessly. The giant's arms encircled him, gripping him tightly. His strength was immense, and Saemus reveled in it.

As the Qunari stepped closer, he moved away, and they danced like that for a moment until Saemus felt the edge of the desk in his back. His hands ran over the giant's chest, stopping once they were entwined in his hair. He grabbed one of Ashaad's horns, gripping it.

The reaction was violent. He slammed Saemus back, sliding him onto the desk and knocking over its contents in the process. Papers crunched against the wall, and the oil lamp broke when it hit the floor. He straddled Ashaad, welcoming the sudden darkness.

The Qunari's lips moved lower to his neck, nuzzling and kissing softly. A great hand worked its way into his robe, it was cold against his chest, and Saemus gasped. He ground his hips into Ashaad's waist, and was shocked to feel something hard there.

"Is that your-"

"Yes." Ashaad answered, "I suppose it is… different than yours."

"It's big." Saemus commented, "And… hard."

"Does that… displease you?" Ashaad furrowed his brow.

"No" Saemus chuckled, "I like it."

With his encouragement, Ashaad pushed harder, and Saemus cursed in the people's tongue. The Qunari smirked at that.

They continued like that for a moment, writhing against each other with their lips locked together.

Saemus leaned up, kissing his ear and the gold-metal lining felt cool against his mouth. He whispered, "I want you inside me." He pressed a hand to Ashaad's chest, and the Qunari stepped back. "Give me a moment to get ready," Saemus told him, "You can wait in my father's room." Ashaad furrowed his brow, and the boy added, "He isn't home, and I don't want us having to step around the broken glass." He gestured to the busted lamp, and Ashaad nodded.

He went to the door, and Saemus handed him his cloak.

A few minutes later Saemus entered his father's chamber and closed the door behind him. Ashaad was waiting on the bed, shirtless but still clothed. Once his lover's eyes were on him, he dropped his robe, revealing that there was no longer anything beneath it.

He held his breath and scarlet tinged his cheeks, feeling the Qunari's eyes on him. His eyes were shut, and he heard the giant stand, crossing the room to meet him. He felt a large hand rest on his hip, then another trailed under his arm to the back of his shoulder. Saemus stood perfectly still, then the Qunari's nose traced against his jawline, tilting his head back.

A soft kiss was placed just beneath his ear, and their bodies pressed together. Saemus inhaled sharply at the feel of contact between their bare skin. The Qunari moved upward letting their lips meet again it was if they wanted to drink each other in.

Suddenly he felt himself be lifted and his eyes flared open. Ashaad slung him into his arms, carrying him to the bed. He was laid on his back and Ashaad settled next to him, resting on his side. They kissed again, and as they did so Saemus slipped his hands lower, carefully untying the strings on his mate's breeches. They came undone easily, and the bulge pushed through.

The Qunari's member stood erect, as long as the measure from Saemus' wrist to the bend in his elbow, and as thick as the hilt of a sword- massive compared to his own. He took a moment to admire it, not just the shaft, but everything: His curled horns and broad shoulders, a chest that could keep him safe, and a heart beneath it that was his.

He saw now that, aside from their size, they were not so different. Each had the same number of fingers and toes, eyes that saw and ears to hear. In shape Saemus was more slender, graced with slight curves that seemed to pair his broad chest and gentle hips. He noticed then that Ashaad had a thin trail of hair that traveled down his stomach and grew into dense curls just above his shaft. Where his were black, Ashaad's were white.

He pressed their bodies closer and kissed the Qunari's jaw.

"I have never done this before." Ashaad remarked.

"What?" Saemus smiled, "Bed a human? Or a man?"

"No, I have never been intimate with anyone." The Qunari told him, "Have you?"

Saemus shook his head, and remarked, "You are my first." Touching his face he added, "And I'm glad it's you."

The two stared for a moment, then Saemus seemed shy, and he rolled onto his stomach beside the Qunari.

"Will this hurt you?" Ashaad asked, his expression was concerned and he traced a finger down Saemus' back until it had reached his tailbone.

"I used some oil but… honestly I don't know." He confessed, propping himself up on his elbows.

"I do not want you to suffer." Ashaad said.

"I won't." Saemus said, "Even if it does hurt, I'll welcome the pain." He was smiling now, "It will mean that we are connected."

Ashaad moved over him, and he felt the giant position himself between his legs. Saemus rose to his knees, gripping the headboard in preparation for what was to come. The Qunari closed the space between them, pressing against the boy's entrance.

There was fluid there, and after a second of hesitation Saemus slid his hips back slightly, feeling the tip press into him. A sharp intake of breath proved that it was larger than he'd guessed. But he didn't ask for it to stop. Ashaad pushed forward gently, and he felt more of it come into him. Saemus bit his lip.

After several minutes of easing back and forth, he'd gotten more than half of it in, and a few labored strokes later, he felt the scout's thighs against his flesh.

It hurt like hell, there was no denying that, but finding the hilt of it brought a smile to his face. His own member was hard as a rock, and when he pushed back again he moved more quickly. Ashaad drew in a ragged breath, and that was all the encouragement he needed. After two more sets of to and fro, he'd started to relax.

He pushed off of the headboard, letting Ashaad's hands encircle his rib cage. The giant rested his chin on the boy's shoulder, and Saemus craned his neck to lay a kiss on his cheek.

"Take me." He whispered.

At his word the Qunari thrust upward cautiously, then continued at a steady, controlled pace. As he closed his eyes, Saemus reached back, taking one of his horns into his grasp. He let his fingers glide against it, and when Ashaad quickened his pace he grasped it more firmly, pulling the ox-man's head nearer to his own. He felt the giant's hands travel down his chest, and while one stopped just over his stomach, the other continued lower until he cradled the boy's crotch in his palm. As Saemus moaned his thrusts were grew harder, and faster still.

He writhed in his grasp, twisted in such a way that would allow their lips to come together. Saemus pressed tongue into the Qunari's mouth eagerly, only to be met with the creature's own tongue, wrestling his into submission.

At some point, the thrusts began to ache, but the boy didn't call for him to stop. He spoke the people's tongue, pushing him to let go, to show him how a Qunari would take his mate, and as the creature's bated breaths grew heavier, he obeyed.

Saemus broke their embrace and lowered himself so that his stomach was flat against the bed. He balled up the sheets with his fists as Ashaad thrust wildly into his end. It was erratic, and reckless, and the pain was nearly unbearable, but Saemus cherished it, cursing his lover's name between each gasp. His knuckles were white from squeezing so hard and just when he thought he could take no more, he came into the sheets, his back tightening around Ashaad's length, and a heated cry escaped him. It drove the Qunari wild, eliciting a roughish moan that he'd never heard, and a moment later, his seed spilled deep inside the boy.

The quiet drowned them; Both covered in beads of sweat, trying to catch their breath.

When the giant's flesh went soft he withdrew it carefully, only to find Saemus covered in blood. Ashaad cursed, his tone ridden with worry. Saemus touched himself, and withdrew a hand coated in crimson.

"I have hurt you." The Qunari was breathless.

"I'm alright, Ashaad." Saemus comforted him, "I thought this might happen… It will heal."

The scout placed a hand on his lower back, still displeased with the sight. Saemus turned in his grasp and sat upright, leaning forward to kiss the Qunari's forehead softly.

"You have to go." He told him, "The servants will be around in the morning, and as much as I wish for you to stay, I can't let them see you."

"I do not wish to leave you this way." Ashaad argued, but the feel of Saemus' palm against his jaw quieted him.

"I will see you tomorrow, on the coast." The boy told him, "I promise."

Ashaad nodded, retrieving his pants and cloak before going to the door. He gave one last glance to his mate, then opened the door and disappeared through the dark hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

Once he'd gone, Saemus went to examining just how much blood had stained the sheets. It did hurt, badly, but he could sleep it off just like any other injury. He stood to return to his room, and fell immediately to his knees, spitting a curse from his lips like poison.

He laid a hand on his hip, feeling the pain stabbing deep beneath his stomach. He needed help, even if he would never admit it to Ashaad. Still, it was impossible. No healer in Kirkwall would keep their meeting confidential. Darktown however, was a completely different story.

It was something he'd recalled hearing when he passed the office of the Guard Captain several weeks ago. She'd been speaking to one of her men about an apostate in Darktown, and said that he was a healer who had begun running a free clinic after the influx of Fereldan refuges.

"He's helping them survive," She'd said, "And if that means nothing then consider that it also keeps them from rioting in Hightown."

If what she'd said was true, then surely Saemus could count on him to stay quiet. After all, he had close ties with the Templars, and that made for fine leverage should he need it.

Still, the path to Darktown was long, if not dangerous. Being that it was the middle of the night, he had no choice but to take the side passages to avoid the gangs that plagued Kirkwall. Being hurt was not an issue, as he had a sort of immunity on the streets. Anyone who bothered him quickly realized who he was, and would apologize profusely. He had reported the first man to do so, as he was a criminal, but after seeing him struck down in the street Saemus opted to keep his mouth shut in any future incidences.

With safety aside, being seen was his greater concern.

His gaze fell on his father's bookshelf, and he managed to get on his feet in order to reach it. Many of Hightown's homes had passages to the undercity, and while he had always been curious to know why, for the moment he was simply grateful that it existed.

* * *

Anders was still awake, working on a manifesto that he'd primarily written for Hawke. It explained in detail why sending mages to the circle was a horrible, if not inhumane, idea. The mage was an odd sort, never having lived in the Circle himself, but always willing to subject others to its judgement- It annoyed him to no end, yet he loved the man all the same. Anders sighed shamefully, the feel of Justice pressing against his skull. He was reminded again how foolish his affections were and, in an attempt to set his mind on anything else, he returned his thoughts to the letter before him.

Just as his focus was restored, there was a knock at the door.

Anders froze. Visitors in the dead of night were usually trouble, perhaps Templars or one of the many gangs that plagued the streets. He went to the door cautiously, staff in hand, and jerked it open in one swift motion.

At his door was a small figure, donning a cloak and supported by a staff not so different from his own.

"Are you the healer?" A voice asked, almost pleading. Once he spoke, Saemus looked up at him cautiously, and suddenly his eyes grew wide. This was the man who accompanied Hawke so often, and he'd gone straight to his doorstep.

The man raised a brow, "Saemus?"

Hawke would hear of this, no doubt- a thought which embarrassed him profusely. His face flushed and he wanted to run, but fear overwhelmed him.

Anders' expression was solid, but inside he was a wreck. Why would he come here? Was it some sort of Templar trap? Maybe it wasn't, and the boy was just a fool. If people of his status started coming around… A trail of blood ran down the boy's ankle and into his boot. He was injured.

Despite the danger this posed to him, Anders said simply, "I think you should come inside."

He shut the door, closing them in, and turned in time to see the man discarding his cloak. His eyes had not deceived him. The boy before him was Saemus Dumar, son of the Viscount, and more trouble than any Templar that had crossed his doorstep. And if that wasn't bad enough, he was injured.

"Before I ask for your aid, I need your word that you will not tell anyone of our meeting." Saemus declared, "And I should remind you that as the Viscount's son, I can have an entire squadron of knight's on your doorstep at a moment's notice."

"I would have given you my word before the threat." Anders said, scowling slightly.

"I believe you, but my injury… No one can know." Saemus insisted.

Anders nodded, "Let's get you on the table." He moved toward the boy, and helped him up onto the slab, "Where are you hurt."

He went to speak, but nothing came out. Instead he simply closed his mouth and rolled over, pulling up his robe to reveal the source of the blood.

"Maker's breath…" Anders sighed.

"Yes, I'm ashamed. You see, I sat in a chair and it broke so-"

"Save your lies, you were buggered by something big." Anders said bluntly, "Who or what isn't any of my business, so long as I can fix it."

The healer spread his legs and began to examine him.

"It was the man I love." Saemus confessed, "About half an hour ago."

He could have easily imagined Saemus to be the _adventurous_ type. It was like the old saying about a preacher's daughter, only worse. But for him to use the word 'love' so bluntly…

"Perhaps you could ask him to be more careful next time?" Anders suggested.

"One does not simply ask a Qunari to be careful." Saemus sighed, and Ander's raised a brow.

"You… Did you say a Qunari did this to you?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Well that does help to explain the wound." Anders smirked, then added, "And you are far braver than I to endure such a thing."

"Well it's true, and… it was worth it." Saemus remarked, "That's why you can't tell anyone that I was here."

"Like I said, you have my word." The healer swore, "Now, as for the damage, you have several mild tears. One is adjacent to a vein, which accounts for most of the blood."

"Can you fix it?"

"Yes." Anders nodded, "But if you continue doing this, the same will happen again." He paused, moving his hand to the small of his back, "Stay still."

A glow emanated from the mage's palm and spread to his fingertips. Once it was done, he used a wet cloth to wipe away the drying blood.

"Thank you" Saemus said, "I… couldn't be more embarrassed to have come to you about this."

"Listen, I've treated all sorts of ridiculous things." Anders comforted him, "One man actually did break a chair in his arse, in the Hanged Man of course." His words drew a smile to the boy's face, "I spent an hour picking the splinters out before I could even begin healing it."

Anders moved away and Saemus pulled his robe back down. He slid off the table with ease and moved to get his cloak.

"And… You should know that I've healed your particular injury several times before." Anders explained, "Not just on my patients, but… For myself as well." The boys eyes grew wide, and the mage said with a shrug, "Sometimes things get heated."

"Then you've…?"

"Did you ever hear about the tranquil mage they found dead in the Chantry?" Anders asked, "It was a few years back, but-"

"Yes" Saemus answered immediately, "His name was Karl, I believe."

Ander's expression went blank, "You… remembered his name?"

"Sometimes I think people _try_ to forget things, maybe so they can sleep better at night." The boy said, "Honestly, I think it just desensitizes us, makes us lose sight of the individual in favor of the masses."

That was very nearly what the Hero of Fereldan had told him, such a long time ago.

"But yes." Saemus said, "Did you know him?"

Anders nodded, still stunned by the boy's young wisdom, "I cared for him greatly… and killed him as well."

"I'm so sorry." Saemus said, his eyes sincere, "But… Why would you do such a thing?"

"Being made tranquil is like having the light taken straight out of your eyes." Anders explained, "Not only do you lose your magic, but your emotions as well. We always swore that if something happened to the other, we would end it. It's my opinion that no mage deserves to lose themselves that way, and even if I didn't think so, they went against Chantry law by doing turning him."

"What do you mean?" Saemus furrowed his brow.

"Once a mage passes a rite called The Harrowing, they aren't allowed to be made tranquil." The healer told him, "And I know for a fact that he'd passed his several years ago. And even then, Karl was a good mage. He didn't stray like I did."

"I suppose you also killed the Templars then?" Saemus asked, and Anders fell silent. Then the boy remarked, "I would have too."

"But I shouldn't have had to. None of it was right."

"You're right." Saemus said, "Someday I will be Viscount, and when I am, I will fight this. If the mages must follow the rules, then so will the Templars."

"That would be…" Anders was speechless, "That would be wonderful."

He went away for a moment, and Saemus pulled on his cloak, sensing that their conversation was drawing to an end.

When the mage returned to him he had two jars in his hands. Holding the first one out, he said, "The next time you're intimate, apply some of this inside instead of oil. It wouldn't hurt to put some on his piece too." Anders told him, "The salve will staunch the blood during your time together."

With the next jar in his grasp, he said, "This one is a healing agent. Clean yourself up when you're done and apply this. It will mend the tears and ease the pain." Anders sighed, "In all honesty you should stay in bed until tomorrow evening, but if what I've heard of you is true, you'll never listen." Then he paused, "Just… come back here when you run out of those salves."

Saemus smiled at that, "I have no coin with me," he told the healer, "But I can promise you, so long as I live, you need not fear the Templars."

"That is worth more than anything I could return." Anders chuckled, "Just… take care of yourself. Not everyone is so open minded."

"Yes..." Anders could have sworn he saw the glint of a tear in the boy's eye, "Thank you."

And with that he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

Thanks to my very first favorite, I've decided to stop being lazy and upload more chapters!

* * *

Saemus awoke the next morning to find that the healer's hands had worked wonderfully. He could walk normally again, and was quick to throw his things into a pack so he could scurry off to the Wounded Coast. He kept his cloak on as usual, and slipped away without anyone's notice.

The sky was already bright, despite being so early in the day, and white billowy clouds drifted by overhead. As he trekked up the shore he saw Ashaad step out from behind a heap of greenery. The Qunari was smiling, something Saemus had never seen. It warmed him, and as the two moved closer Ashaad said, "I am glad to see you are well." The larger man drew his arms up around him and nuzzled him softly, "When I left you last night, I was… worried."

"I told you, I'm fine." Saemus laughed, "But I did go to a healer, a friend of Hawke's." He broke their embrace and unfolded his pack, "He gave me these" Saemus said, showing him the jars, "One for before, and another for after. He said they would help."

"You told him of us?" The Qunari raised a brow.

"Everyone in Kirkwall already knows." Saemus stroked the scout's hair, "All except my father." He held the man's gaze, "And that doesn't matter either. I've decided to convert to the Qun, just as soon as we get back to Kirkwall."

"I will support you." Ashaad smiled, "You are already _Kadan_, where my heart lies."

"And that is why I wish to be Viddathari." Saemus smiled, "Your language, your culture, even your religious texts… They're all beautiful. I fell in love with your world the day I met you." Saemus said, his eyes lowering, "You've saved me, Ashaad."

"I feel much the same." Ashaad said, letting his fingertips trail down the boy's collarbone.

"I should stay away from you for now, though." Saemus sighed, "You have a task to complete, and I do not wish the Arishok to withdraw his mercy."

"I have already finished it." Ashaad smirked, "The Arishok approved my work this morning, and has allowed me the two extra days I was allotted to live freely."

"You mean…?"

"I am solely yours, for this day and the next."

A smile bloomed across Saemus' face, his happiness impossible to hide. He leaped up, and Ashaad caught him eagerly, cradling him against his chest. They kissed, quickly but hungrily, and Ashaad knelt into the sand, supporting both of their weight.

When they broke, Saemus stared up at the sky. It was a beautiful day, and the water was surely warm.

* * *

The Viscount strode into the keep, his company trailing him. Tantervale had been blunt in their refusal to aid Kirkwall, despite their proximity to the infection. He went to rouse Saemus, and found his room empty. The sight that greeted him, however, was horrifying.

Papers and books scattered haphazardly, and a broken oil lamp- Something was wrong. He rushed to his own chambers, and saw his bed sheets painted with blood.

"Saemus" He whispered, panic lacing his breath, then called loudly, "Seneschal! Guards!"

* * *

Saemus splashed him, and received a wave of his own in return. That was when he learned never to challenge a Qunari. They swam for a while and, at one point, even dared to jump off a rocky outcrop into the deep that lay below. When they retreated to shallow water, he found a bed of oysters, and spent an hour or so collecting them for their evening meal.

With his skin kissed by the sun, Saemus was red and tender around his shoulders and nose. Ashaad drew him to the shore, passing their clothes on the way, and went to a mass of foliage. He plucked several leave carefully, then used a nearby rock to crush them in his palm. The resulting poultice was a sticky blue-green substance that he happily smeared onto Saemus' burns. With his thumb he painted a small dollop on his nose, then leaned forward and kissed the lips below it.

"Thank you" Saemus smiled, "The Qunari do not get sunburned?"

"We hail from Seheron." Ashaad told him, "It is much hotter there."

"Ah" Saemus said, he went to his pack and removed his cloak, spreading it out over the sand. He lay on it, and Ashaad joined him, allowing him to lay his head against the bare skin of his thigh.

* * *

At noon the Viscount's guards scoured the city, asking questions and collecting information on the whereabouts of the young Dumar. When they ventured to the Chantry, one sister in particular was all too eager to tell them what she knew.

"He's been spending his time on the Wounded Coast," She declared, "With a Qunari scout."

"Thank you, Sister Petrice." The Seneschal said, "If you come across any other information, we will gladly accept it at the Keep."

* * *

It was midday when the two decided to go hunting, as oyster meat wasn't nearly enough to feed them both. That and the fact that humans needed to eat twice as often as Qunari, or so Ashaad said.

"How did you know that we eat more often?" Saemus snickered.

"Many of the Viddathari at the compound are human," Ashaad shrugged, sharpening a wooden spear with his knife, "And some of them eat more than I do."

Saemus laughed at that.

Halfway through the trail Saemus saw a bush covered in berries.

"Look" He called attention to it.

"No" Ashaad grabbed his hand, "Those are not for eating."

"I know, they're _Vallada_, the berries you use to make dye for your war paint."

"You… Have studied much." Ashaad said, seemingly surprised.

"If I made some, could you paint me?" The boy asked, "Or, would that be… sacrilege?"

"There is no shame in decorating you." The Qunari told him, "Let us see if we can find what we need."

He was nearly done plucking the berries when Ashaad motioned for him to bow low. Peering through the bushes, he could see why: A small boar had stumbled across their path. Ashaad held still and waited for the animal to move just a hair closer. When it did, he launched his spear, skewering it straight through the side of its chest.

The pig was still struggling, and he wasted no time going to it and cutting its throat.

"You could have left it alive, and bled it." Saemus noted.

"One should not suffer at the hands of those who hold the greater power."

"Many think the Qunari are merciless." He said.

"Only to those who deserve none."

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when the Viscount's guards began hanging flyers to announce Saemus' disappearance. They branded it a kidnapping, and offered a reward to anyone who could bring him back alive from his captors on the Wounded Coast.

Few would dare to venture there, Petrice pondered, studying the flyer on the Chantry board. Perhaps someone would need an extra incentive.

* * *

Ashaad had skinned the pig with the skill of a city butcher, and used some of plants he'd collected to season it. A thick, dark colored root was tucked inside it along with several broad, dry leaves. On the outside he rubbed its flesh with crushed seeds, and a few ground up flowers.

The resulting aroma was a feast for the senses, and Saemus inhaled it greedily as he sat shelling the oysters. He cut his thumb on one, and sucked away the blood before trying again to get it open. Once he'd finally pried it apart, he noticed something shimmering on the inside. He tipped the shell over, and something small rolled onto his hand.

"I found a pearl!" He laughed.

"So it seems." He gave it to Ashaad for inspection, "There is a tale among my people about a man who spent his entire life searching for one of these. It teaches us to cherish what we hold dear, and that a journey is just if it leads you to what you seek."

"Will you tell it to me some time?" Saemus asked, and the Qunari nodded.

A few minutes later they put the meat into a pot, and stewed it. When Ashaad removed the roast from the fire, he cut into it eagerly. The meat was tender and juicy, like nothing he'd ever had in the Keep.

"This… This is amazing!" He laughed.

"Usually our women prepare the food," Ashaad told him, "It is a task we revere them for, as a starving warrior would be useless, what they do is essential." The Qunari smirked, "But sometimes I think it is a task I perform better."

Saemus laughed, and Ashaad joined him with a low rumbled that filled the air. A few birds flew off nearby, and as they quieted, Ashaad said, "When we go to the compound, I will make you something called _atanvah_. It is a sort of roasted fish, I believe you will enjoy it."

"I'd like that." Saemus smiled. He checked the oysters and deemed that they were done, ladling the meat into his bowl beside the pork.

A question had been prodding his mind for the better part of the day, and he could think of no other time to ask.

"Ashaad" Saemus called, and the Qunari offered his attention, "Do other Qunari in the compound know of our relationship?"

"Yes" He replied, swallowing a swath of pork.

"Have you… been given any trouble about it?"

"Many of the people do not think you are worth my attention." Ashaad said, "But they do not know you as I do, and they are wrong."

"Is that all?" Saemus said, he was being sarcastic but the scout didn't take it as such.

"One of the people's merchants called you 'dathrasi', because of your father's prominence." Saemus nearly spit out an oyster. 'Dathrasi' was the human equivalent of 'swine', and it wasn't meant as a compliment. Ashaad then said, "He has a new scar."

* * *

It was nearly evening when Hawke saw the postings. He blanched at their message, and without a word to his companions, he set into a run on his way to the Keep.

He found Seneschal Bran speaking to a woman and a small company of men.

"The Winters will prevail." She warned, "So you'd better have that reward ready when we return." She nearly ran into Hawke, and shouted, "Out of my way."

At her passing, Fenris muttered something in Arcanum, and Varric chimed in, "Yep."

"I feared we would attract her type." Bran sighed, "Is there something you need Serah Hawke?"

"Is it true that Saemus Dumar is missing?" He asked.

"Yes, the Viscount found evidence that implies he was taken from here, and sources say he's been seen with a Qunari on the Wounded Coast."

"What evidence?" Anders inquisition was unexpected.

"More than that I cannot say."

"Yes, but you must." The healer stepped forward, "I… I saw Saemus Dumar, just last night."

"When?" Seneschal Bran asked, looking rather surprised.

"It was close to midnight."

"Where? Under what pretense?" The Seneschal prodded, seeming both distraught and suspicious.

Anders crossed his arms and shrugged, "More than that, I can't say."

Bran's mouth hardened into a line, "Aren't you the mage who's been running a clinic in Darktown?"

"Do not threaten me." Anders glared, "I gave Saemus my word, and should you send your Templars after me, I will die with it."

Hawke stepped forward, "I will return him, Seneschal."

"Just remember that the reward is for bringing him back alive." Bran told them, "You may wish to remind The Winters of that, should you encounter them on the Wounded Coast."

Hawke nodded, and trailed down the steps, out of the Keep.

He went to the manor, with his companions on his heel. The door opened for them first, and he shut it behind him once he was inside.

Varric, Fenris, and Anders watched him carefully.

"Anders."

"Hawke." He smiled.

"If you know why this has happened-"

"I gave him my word."

"So did I." Hawke said, raising his voice, "Now tell me what you know, so that I may do the same, and pray that it is enough to help him." The healer's amber eyes watched him intently, "Fine, if you won't speak then I'll begin guessing. He was at your clinic, I know that much. You never leave at night because that's when the Templars patrol Darktown. So tell me first, why did he come to you!"

"He did say that he was a friend of yours." Anders sighed, "Look, he was… bleeding."

"He was hurt?"

"It was… a wound of passion, Hawke." The blonde explained, his voice becoming more deliberate, "Perhaps one that you and I could sympathize with."

The elf's eyes passed between them both, unsure of what he meant.

Hawke inhaled sharply, "Did he tell you how it happened?"

"Yes, he mentioned the Qunari." Anders confessed, "Probably the one the posters describe."

"And what did you do?"

"I healed him, and sent him away with two salves, in case it happened again."

"Why are you two speaking so vaguely?" Fenris asked, annoyed.

"To preserve his privacy as much as possible, though as it stands, there isn't much point." Hawke sighed.

"That's all I know." Anders shrugged, "Now tell me yours."

"Fenris and I were at the compound, speaking to the Arishok about the Tal Vashoth we killed on the coast." Hawke began, "While we were there, a scout approached, speaking of Saemus… and their relationship."

"So you know as well then." Anders said, his eyes lowering to the floor.

"I know that he's in trouble if we don't find him first." Hawke warned.

"So wait, lemme get this straight." Varric started, "The Viscount's boy is in love with a Qunari, who buggered him so badly that he had to go to your clinic last night… and now he's missing?"

"Varric" Anders hissed. Hawke didn't argue, and Fenris looked to him.

"Why didn't you just say that?" The elf asked.

"For the same reason that I don't go around advertising that I haven't bedded _you_ yet." Hawke snapped, and Fenris turned a particular shade of scarlet, obviously ashamed, "It's no one's business who he's sleeping with, especially with his status."

Varric fought against a smirk, and lost, then Anders chuckled, "You two haven't-"

A look from Fenris was all the answer he needed. His face displayed a mixture of hurt and anger, but Anders either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Well isn't that something." He continued. The elf turned away, ready to return to the task at hand, then Anders quipped, "What, are you waiting for Danarius to give you permission?"

Anders laughed and Varric's smiled disappeared quickly. It was too far. Fenris whipped around, his skin lit with a blue glow and Hawke had barely enough time to move between them.

"If I am so insufficient then perhaps you two should runaway together." Fenris said, his voice nearly breaking, then scoffed, "You deserve each other."

He went out the door, slamming it behind him. The look Anders received from Hawke was aflame with hatred.

"Never do that again." Hawke threatened, "Do you understand me?"

The healer nodded, and Hawke was out the door before he could say sorry.

"Wrong crowd" Varric shrugged, offering the blonde his comfort.

The elf ignored his calling, and when he finally caught up with him he grabbed his arm and wrenched him around.

"Let go of me!" Fenris snapped, pulling away, "Go trifle with your mage, and leave me be!"

"Fenris." His voice was firm, "Anders does not have me, you do." The elf's eyes were dark with pain, "No matter what he, or anyone else says, I am yours."

"But you do _not_ have me!" Fenris argued, the hurt in his voice unmistakable, "I am broken, Hawke. Broken chains, a broken memory, and a broken heart! I will never be but half a man! And I'm not even that."

Hawke grabbed his cheek and made the elf hold his gaze, seeing that there were tears glazing his eyes. He would never let the man see him cry. Hawke could do nothing but try to console him, "I care enough to wait for you, Fenris. I can help you heal, all we have to do is-"

"Don't you think I want to?" Fenris hissed, "Don't you think I want to let you touch me without desperately yearning to pull away?"

"I know you do." Hawke said, "But this isn't the place to discuss this."

Fenris pulled away from him, swallowing hard, "Then tell me what you wish of me, but don't ask me to go back in there."

"I want you to cool off, find Isabela and meet us at the docks." Hawke said, "I need to go to the compound, tell the Arishok of what's transpired."

The warrior nodded, and strode away. Hawke watched him thoughtfully, waiting until he'd rounded the corner before going back to the manor.

* * *

The sun was traveling lower when Saemus finished the dye. It was a thick mixture consisting of the strained berries cured with sea salt, which he'd scraped off of the rocks by the shore. He had trouble believing that such a haphazard creation of something sacred wasn't an insult to the Qun, but no one was near to judge them on that.

Ashaad dipped his hand into the paint, then carefully began placing marks on Saemus' chest. Overhead the sky grew dark, the once peaceful clouds swelling with the black of a storm. A few minutes in, he realized the markings were different from Ashaad's.

"Your painting is the mark of a scout." He said, "What is mine?"

"Yours is for a scholar." Ashaad said, "Without the missing reagent this mixture will fade off in a day's time, sooner if it's wet. Which is good. The Arishok may deem you something other than a scholar, but for the moment, this is how I see you."

"Really?" Saemus smiled lightly.

"Yes." Ashaad replied, "You are smarter than most humans, and you have spent much time reading in books to expand your knowledge. That is the way of a scholar."

His touch was gentle, and Saemus found his eyelids fluttering shut.

"Can I ask you something?" The boy asked.

"Always so full of questions." He didn't have to open his eyes to see the smirk on Ashaad's face.

"Earlier you said that I had saved you, but… I can't understand what you mean."

There was a sudden silence, and as Ashaad stopped marking him he drew his eyes open. The Qunari was staring at his chest as though he were looking through him.

He blinked, and spoke, "When I began this task I thought often of the heathens here." Ashaad said, and Saemus' eyes grew wide, "I felt there was something missing from my life, and with the stagnation of our inhabitance in your city, I felt as if my purpose within the Qun was misplaced." The Qunari looked up at him, and their eyes locked, "I was nearly ready to forget myself when you found me along the shore, and when you kept returning day after day, it made me want to continue my work for the Arishok."

"You… thought of joining the Tal-Vashoth?" Saemus asked.

"Yes." Ashaad admitted, and the look of shame on his face betrayed him, "I have always felt… out of place among my people, and the Arishok senses it as well. I believe it is why he sends me away to the missions that require only one, so that I might isolate myself rather than spread my despondence." The Qunari's eyes shut for an instant, and for a moment Saemus saw the pain he carried, but then the oxman gazed into him again, and it was gone, "The opposite has occurred. I have known you, and now I don't feel alone. I feel… revived. _Saved_."

He returned to painting, and Saemus realized he would say no more on the subject. For two people so different, they had been exactly alike at their core. Without really thinking Saemus leaned forward and kissed the Qunari, who had busied himself with the painting again. The scout did not push him away, but instead drew into it, placing his painted hand on Saemus' neck. When he pulled away the paint remained in the shape of his palm.

When Saemus saw it he smiled, "That's the best."

Just when Ashaad had almost finished, the heavens above tore open with lightning, then thunder, and a bout of rain began pouring down on them. The recent paint ran into it, effectively ruining the scarlet markings that Ashaad had presented him with.

The two gathered as much as they could, running away to a nearby cave. The food was unsalvageable, as was the dye, and the warmth of the fire that was now staunched. Most everything else made it into the shelter with them.

Saemus pulled on his coat, drenched through, then hesitated as he inspected his decaying paintings.

"What a waste." He sighed, "They were beautiful."

"You will get new ones when you become Viddathari." Ashaad told him, "Perhaps the Arishok will allow me to be the one to paint you again."

"I never would have thought this possible." Saemus said, shaking his head in disbelief, "I fell in love with a Qunari scout, and the Arishok had mercy enough to allow it."

"No, if it were the Arishok's judgement I would have been executed."

"What?" Saemus asked, his brow raised, and the scout looked at him in confusion.

"Intimacy with the unavowed is a sin to our culture, worthy of execution." Ashaad explained, "I thought you knew this."

"What?" Saemus gasped, "Then… why would he allow it?"

"Hawke spoke well of you, I thought you knew?"

"I was told that he said something, but it was neither important nor insignificant! No one told me that he saved your life!"

"As well as yours, kadan. He is well respected by the Arishok." Ashaad nodded, "And by his word, so are you."

"When we return to Kirkwall, I must thank him. Properly. Profusely…" Saemus said breathlessly, looking to his companion, "I love you, Ashaad. You know that don't you?"

The Qunari nodded, "Though I am unsure what to say in return."

"If you feel the same, then you could say 'I love you too' or something similar." Saemus shrugged, "But you don't have to, I mean-"

"I love you as well." Ashaad said, "Is that sufficient?"

"It's perfect." He leaned forward, kissing him. Feeling passionate and ever grateful, he pressed his tongue into the Qunari's mouth, eagerly receiving his lover's into his own.


	5. Chapter 5

Isabela and Fenris were waiting under an overhang at the port when Hawke approached. Anders and Varric were still at his side, each of them equally soaked. When he reached them, Isabela had to shout to be heard over the sound of the rain pouring down around them, "Hawke, a bloody storm is brewing, and there's not a ship in this harbor that could survive it."

"Are you certain?" Hawke asked.

"Coming from a rogue who loves to take risks?" She jeered, "Yes, I'm certain."

He scanned the docks for any sign of The Winters. Fenris followed his gaze, and said, "I saw them board a ship half an hour ago." He said, "A whole company of armed men."

"They'll be lucky if they reach the shore." Isabela remarked.

"So what, we wait it out?" Hawke asked.

"Unless you have a spell that can clear the skies, yes." The pirate sighed, and when she saw the stress on his face she added with a rare sincerity, "I'm sorry, Hawke."

* * *

His hands ran over the Qunari's chest, stopping to rest on his ribs. Saemus sat perched on the man's lap, growing harder by the second. He could feel the scout's length pressing into his arse through the cloth of his pants. He relished it. Ashaad grabbed a hand full of his hair and pulled back his head to expose the sensitive flesh on his neck. He nuzzled eagerly beneath the boy's jaw.

It wasn't long before Saemus began coursing his hips back and forth against the Qunari's lap.

Ashaad unbuttoned the his lover's pants, slipping them off, then pulling away his underclothes. With Saemus exposed he motioned for him to sit up so that he could remove his own slacks. When they were both bare, he positioned the boy so that his back was against the scout's chest. He started to lower himself onto the giant's member, but Ashaad halted him.

"Wait" The Qunari said, reaching into his pack. He removed the two jars of salve, and when Saemus selected the correct one he uncapped the lid and dipped his fingers into it. Very carefully he pressed them inside of the Saemus, earning a soft whimper from the boy who straddled him.

"Does that feel… good?" The Qunari asked.

"Yes" Saemus said in a whisper. He withdrew his fingers and rubbed them together until they were slick, then slipped them inside the boy again. He gasped at the sensation, and Ashaad worked them in a little deeper until his knuckles rested just outside his entrance.

Once his whimpers abated, the scout removed his fingers and gathered more of the salve to apply it to his own length.

Once he was sure it was coated well enough, he guided his tip to the boy's entrance and gradually slid the length inside of him. His thrusts were slow and gentle at first, and when he picked up pace Saemus reached back to grip one of his horns, steadying himself.

With one arm around his waist, the scout reached forward and gripped the boy's piece with his other hand, pumping it steadily. The slickness of the salve made a fine lubricant, and after a moment of jerking him Saemus was cursing between breaths, whimpering and moaning like a needy whelp.

"Don't hold back, Ashaad." He pleaded, "I want this."

"Then you must face me so I can see your eyes." The man told him, "I will not hurt you again as I did last night."

Saemus nodded and slid off of the Qunari's lap. He spread his cloak over the sandy floor and laid back on it, letting Ashaad lean over him. Looking to his left, he saw that he storm outside was fierce. He worried that it may find its way into the cave, but a touch from Ashaad reminded him that he had nothing to fear.

He lifted his legs, allowing the scout to come between them, his ankles barely rested on the giant's shoulders, so he repositioned them to where they were wrapped around his waist. Again he found himself in awe of Ashaad's size. He fit inside the oxman's shadow with ease, and with those great arms at his sides he could feel no safer, not even in his own bed.

Ashaad pushed back inside of him, and began thrusting normally, then faster as Saemus had asked. He gasped at the pressure, and dug his nails into the creature's back. That only seemed to please him more. His pace grew harder, faster, and every few seconds he cast his gaze on the boy's face, studying his expression thoughtfully.

There was nothing to worry for, Saemus knew. The last time, and first time, had been more painful than anything he could have imagined. But this time it was different; this time there wasn't any ache. Whether it was the salve or his own experience, he couldn't be sure, but it mattered little. He loved it all the more.

Saemus grew close, loud moaning interspersed with curses from no single language in particular. He came against the giant's stomach, and as it was before, it wasn't long before the Qunari followed. The warm fluid flooded him, and he felt it running down his thigh. For Saemus, it was bliss.

Once again they lay together, out of breath and still aching for each other's touch.

"I love you, Saemus." This time he was the first to say it, "You hold my heart, eternally… And I will gladly return to the Arishok with you at my side."

Tears streaked the boy's face, and he turned away in shame.

"Kadan," The Qunari's tone was scared, "Have I… hurt you?" His eyes quickly scanned the boy, but he saw nothing that would indicate an injury like the one he had suffered previously.

"No" Saemus muttered, but the Qunari's eyes were still pained, "I'm sorry for worrying you, I just… I didn't want you to see my weakness."

"Kadan…" He repeated, with a voice that was soothing. He pulled Saemus' gaze into his, "You may always be weak with me, I am your bondmate." He shook his head gently, "But… if I have not hurt you, then I do not understand why you are sad."

"I'm not, I… Humans don't just cry when they're sad or hurt." Saemus told him, "They cry when they are scared, and overwhelmed, and when they're happy that they've finally found the one thing they've spent their whole life looking for." Saemus whimpered, "I never belonged in Kirkwall, and I'd given up hope of ever being happy, but then I met you and… And now everything is right."

The boy's tears flowed freely now, and Ashaad took him into his arms, cradling him.

"I feel the same." The scout said quietly.

A moment later he released him, pulling their packs together so that they had something to lay their heads on. When he did, Saemus saw rivulets of blood trailing down the Qunari's back.

"Ashaad, you're bleeding!" He gasped.

The giant reached over his shoulder and withdrew a hand, wet with blood. He smiled at that, though Saemus couldn't fathom why.

"You cut me." Ashaad snickered, referring to the moment when he'd raked his nails across his back, "I did not think you to be strong enough."

The boy took a rag from his pack and held it outside the cave to wet it. Once it was damp he pressed it to Ashaad's back, carefully cleaning the marks he'd made during their moment of passion. He also moved lower, and cleaned his seed from the giant's stomach.

Ashaad lay down on the bed he'd made, and motioned for Saemus to join him. He curled up in the Qunari's grasp, warm despite the lingering cold. The sound of the rain carried him to sleep, and Ashaad nodded off as well once he'd seen that his mate was safe in his grasp.

* * *

When dawn broke the storm had abated, and Hawke wasted no time getting the crew onto a ship bound for the Wounded Coast. Isabela elected to stay behind, with the excuse of keeping an eye out, should the boy return. The truth of course was that she tried to avoid involving herself with the Qunari entirely, and Hawke had no time to argue with her.

* * *

Saemus awoke to find that Ashaad was already up, though he hadn't moved from his place beside him. The sun was bright in the cave, and he guessed it was already midday.

"Good morning." He stretched, "Were you… waiting for me to wake?"

Ashaad nodded, and sat up enough to stretch as well.

"I did not wish to disturb you." The giant said, and a smirk crossed his lips, "You have not been so quiet since we met." Saemus chuckled and nudged against him.

Once they'd gathered themselves they ventured out with the intention of searching for their camp. Had they not seen the circle of stones where the fire had been, they never would have found it. Ashaad went away to look for his tent, hoping it was recoverable. Saemus stayed behind, working to find something for breakfast before they returned to Kirkwall.

"Well look what we have here, boys." He looked up quickly to see a woman staring down at him, her face twisted into an indignant smirk. She was accompanied by several men, each one heavily armed.

"Who are you?" He questioned her.

"We are The Winters," She gestured to her troop, "A mercenary company sent to retrieve you from your heathen captors."

"What?" He said, "That's ridiculous. I'm not being held captive, I'm here with a friend. We were going to return to Kirkwall today."

"How unfortunate for you that you didn't return sooner." She said, "There's no bounty for letting you go back on your own."

Saemus rose from his place in the camp, and stepped backward, seeing her inch closer with every step. Eventually he backed into something, and turned sharply to see Ashaad standing behind him, his eyes locked on to the woman and her mercs. The scout had recovered his spear, he noted, and as the Qunari stepped in front of him he removed the dagger from his belt and placed it in Saemus' hand.

There were too many for him to face alone, he knew, but letting Saemus be hurt by them wasn't an option.

"Leave" Ashaad demanded, "You will not be taking him with you."

The woman drew her daggers, and like a ripple, each man behind her readied his weapons as well.

"Run, Saemus." Ashaad told him.

"I won't leave you." The boy said, and his mate knew it was true.

"Kill the Qunari," She ordered, and as her men leaped forward Saemus stepped back. Ashaad charged them, killing the first when he rammed into his chest, effectively sending several broken ribs into the sensitive organs beneath. The second was skewered with his spear, and the third was the victim of a broken neck- snapped when he was within Ashaad's grasp. A dagger sank into the Qunari's shoulder, but he didn't stop.

Another two men were killed; five down, but six more were still waiting. Ashaad was riddled with wounds, blood seeping out of the cuts like wine from a loosely bound cask. Saemus wanted to fight, to step forward and kill the woman who'd caused this, but he was frozen with fear and could do nothing but watch as his lover bleed out before him.

Three men charged him at once, and though he threw one off, the others managed to get a hold on him. Seeing her chance, the woman rushed forward, and ran him through with both of her blades. The Qunari dropped to his knee, then collapsed, his blood pooling in the sand.

"Ashaad!" Saemus screamed, his fear dissipating. He came forward, falling to the Qunari's side. The daggers that killed him were still in the woman's grasp, dripping blood into the dirt as she loomed over them both.

"No, no, no!" He begged, "Please, maker, you can't die! You can't!"

Tears trickled down his cheeks, trembling at his jaw then falling onto Ashaad's face.

"It is the end whelp, surrender yourself." The woman spoke.

Saemus stood and held Ashaad's dagger to his throat, crying, "I am worth nothing to you if I am dead." The dying Qunari tried to raise a hand, to stop him and beg him to surrender, but his strength had fled.

"Saemus!" The boy turned to see more people approaching.

"Hawke" He whimpered, recognizing him at once.

Seeing the bleeding corpse, the mage asked, "Have you done this?"

"It was an honest accident." She sneered.

"You killed him!" Saemus snapped, "You vashedan bitch!"

"Ooh, is that one of their words?" She stepped closer, "To speak their tongue… I'll bet you've gone farther than that!"

At her proximity he pressed the blade harder against his throat. A small cut appeared there, and a gentle trickle of blood, "You think I won't do it." He smiled weakly as the tears streamed his face, "You're wrong."

"You won't have to, Saemus." Hawke told him.

"I'll never go back with her." The boy warned.

"Perhaps I'll cut out your tongue and charge extra for bringing you back quiet." She narrowed her eyes ruefully.

"I've had enough of this." Hawke said, his tone serious, "Anders, tend to Ashaad. Varric, the company. Fenris-"

He didn't need to finish that order, the elf muttering, "I'll tear her fucking throat out."

"Now!" Hawke shouted. There was an explosion of fire and the mage rushed forth, reaching Saemus and pulling him back. He pressed the boy behind him and lit his hands again, should any of her cohorts come his way. Varric unleashed a swath of arrows that rained down and pierced each of the men several times over until they'd fallen. When everything halted there was only the woman. Fenris set his gaze on her, and as he came close she began walking backwards, dropping her daggers and begging for forgiveness.

"May the Maker grant you mercy," Fenris hissed, "Because you won't get any from me." He thrust his hand into her neck and tore out her jugular. Blood splattered into the sand and she choked for a moment, drowning, before she fell over dead.

Saemus moved past Hawke to return to Ashaad's side. A light emanated from Ander's hands, and the Qunari's eyes opened cautiously.

"Ashaad!" He cried, "You're alive."

"I can't save him, Saemus, but I can give you a moment… Maybe it will be enough." Anders told him, his eyes dim with sorrow.

The Qunari reached up, placing his hand gently on the boy's cheek.

"You hold my heart, eternally." Ashaad reminded him.

"And you mine." Saemus whispered, and even as the healer's glow persisted, Ashaad's hand fell from his grasp. He was gone.

Hawke stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry Saemus, but I have to take you back." A moment of silence passed between them, "If you wish, we could bury him."

"No, the Qunari do not believe in such rituals." Saemus sighed, "I will tell the Arishok of his passing, and perhaps someone will keep a record of it. Even if they don't… I will never forget him."

* * *

The return trip to Kirkwall was done with a heavy heart, and during the voyage Saemus sat alone, rolling a pearl in the palm of his hand.

_There is a tale among my people about a man who spent his entire life searching for one of these. It teaches us to cherish what we hold dear, and that a journey is just if it leads you to what you seek._

"Just" Saemus whispered, and pressed the pearl to his lips before slipping it back into his pocket. He'd made his decision.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note:

Two chapters uploaded in one night? A treat for those who care :)

As always, reviews are very much appreciated!

* * *

It was evening when they reached the city. Hawke and the rest of them accompanied Saemus to the Keep. He bust open the doors unannounced, and found his father seated at his desk with the Seneschal by his side.

"Saemus!" The man exclaimed, standing to greet him, "My son, are you well?"

"No, father, I'm not." He confronted him, "My friend was just killed by the mercenaries you sent to rescue me!"

"Your friend? I'm so sorry, son, I had heard you were alone, save for the Qunari who'd taken you."

"The Qunari was my friend!" Saemus shouted, "He's dead and you don't even know his name!"

The look on his father's face was something between worry and disgust.

"Bran, close the doors." At his word the Seneschal moved behind them, and did as he was asked, "Hawke, thank you for rescuing my son. You will be rewarded."

"Ser, your son holds more wisdom than you see." Hawke commented, "To fight the other is anyone's first instinct, but to seek understanding and attempt to make peace-"

"My word, ser, please forgive this intrusion into personal matters." The Seneschal said, and hurriedly ushered Hawke and the others out of the room.

As agreed, the man handed Hawke a sack of coins and sent him on his way.

"So that's it then?" Anders asked, seemingly agitated.

"Yes." The pain in Hawke's voice was evident, but no one commented on it.

"Actually, Hawke, I was going to do some checking." Varric told him, "I'll let you know if anything turns up."

"Then I'll retire to the clinic, and remain there, should anyone need me." Anders told them, then departed. Varric was close behind him, leaving Hawke and Fenris alone in silence.

"Will you be leaving as well?" The elf asked.

"Yes, I think I'll go home." Hawke said, "It's late, and if you're up for it, we have a discussion to finish."

Fenris nodded and followed him out.

* * *

After spending several hours at the Hanged Man, Saemus Dumar entered the Keep as quietly as he could, given his staggering gait, and walked straight into his father who was waiting by the stairs.

"You're inebriated." The Viscount said bluntly.

"Mmhmm," He murmured.

"Saemus… I know that Qunari was your friend, and that this isn't easy for you, but really-"

"He wasn't just my friend." The boy told him, "… I loved him."

The Viscount's eyes grew wide, and he quickly checked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching them.

"Don't bother." Saemus laughed dryly, "Everyone in Kirkwall already knows, it's just no one's got the gall to tell you."

"Alright, so you loved him." The Viscount said, almost as if he were trying to convince himself, "And that was foolish of you, I mean, it's not as if the Qunari are capable of such things."

"You know nothing of the Qunari!" Saemus shouted.

"I know they are heathens who deny the Maker and soil the minds of our people." The Viscount flared, shouting right back, "More than that should not matter!"

"Fine" Saemus scoffed, going towards the stairs, "But you should know that heathen fucked me in your bed."

"Saemus!" The man was outraged, but the boy didn't stop. He merely ascended the stairs and went to his room, locking the door behind him.

He remained there for the rest of the night and the next day, not even leaving to eat. At some point he looked out the window and saw three men moving his father's old, gilded oak bed into a wagon, and then they hauled it away. Of course his father wouldn't have been satisfied with just changing the sheets…

It was well into the night when Saemus left his room. He had intended to leave quietly, but his father caught him again.

"Where are you going?" The Viscount asked, and Saemus wondered just how long he'd been waiting for him.

"To Hawke's." He said plainly, "He's a human, an Andrastian, and he's even nobility. What could you possibly object for?"

"I love you, son." His father said, unexpectedly, "Be safe."

* * *

There was a knock at the door, and Hawke answered it eagerly. Saemus noticed something was off about the older man, but he couldn't quite place what it was.

"Hawke" He spoke, "Are you… alright?"

"Yes, sorry, I… thought you might be Fenris." The man confessed, "Would you like to come in?"

The boy nodded and followed him inside quietly.

"We have some leftover roast if you're interested." Hawke offered, "And there's also an entire cabinet of liquor in the kitchen."

"The roast sounds wonderful, I'm starving." Saemus smiled, "But I'll pass on the liquor, I'm still a bit hung over from last night."

Hawke nodded and they journeyed into the kitchen, fully intending to serve themselves, but Orana had heard the door and was eagerly making her way down the steps as they passed.

She fussed over him too much, but he never scolded her, as he guessed it was all she could do to stay sane after everything she'd been through.

She turned to Saemus, "I can heat the roast for you, messere, but it will take time."

"Just bring it out cold," Hawke answered for him, "I can out broil that old stove any day." He winked at her, and she smiled.

When she returned with a plate Hawke set it between his hands, and suddenly the room grew warmer. Saemus was in awe of him.

The mage slid the plate across the table to his guest, who wasted no time eating. Hawke merely watched as he threw one forkful after another into his mouth.

"If you'd like to fetch him a glass of water, I would be grateful." Hawke said to the servant, and she quickly went back to the kitchen.

"Let me guess," Hawke began with a grin, "You decided to hole up in your room, and only after you were committed, did you realize that you hadn't eaten since yesterday."

Saemus swallowed, "Yes, that's… Exactly what happened, actually." He smirked, "Are you reading my mind with blood magic?"

"Nah, I've got no interest in slitting my wrists and dancing in the moonlight, thank you very much." Hawke mused, "It was just a guess based on observation."

Orana returned with his water just in time, as the boy's laughter had nearly choked him.

"That will be all, dear." Hawke smiled at her, "You should return to bed and get some rest."

She nodded politely and dismissed herself.

"So she's your…?"

"Servant." Hawke answered, then chuckled, "Why doesn't anyone ever assume I'm paying her? Even my own mother thought I'd brought home a slave."

"I just keep waiting for Hightown to get to you." Saemus said honestly, "To turn you into someone else, but it hasn't. You're stronger than most of the people here Hawke. You don't let the world tell you who you are." The boy told him, admiring him slightly, "And that reminds me, I still need to thank you."

"Oh yes, it's long overdue." Hawke teased, "What exactly are you thanking me for?"

"See, it's partially your fault." Saemus began, wiping his mouth, "You told me that you said something to the Arishok about me, though you didn't say what, just that it might have helped to sway him."

"Yes, I recall that."

"You lied." Saemus smirked.

"No, I just didn't tell you the whole truth." Hawke laughed.

"Like hell you didn't." The boy quipped, "You told him you respected me, and since he respects you, that's basically the same as me having earned his favor in the first place!"

"Really? That's wonderful!" Hawke said, though he obviously knew.

"You're a dick." Saemus told him, reaching to take a sip of his water, "You know that?"

"Well, as the saying goes, you are what you eat so I suppose-" Saemus nearly died. He choked down the water, coughing violently.

"You… Did you just-" He was in disbelief, "I've never seen you like this, you…" Suddenly he was reminded of something he'd overheard at the Hanged Man. The dwarf, the one who followed Hawke, he'd said something about how the man would shoulder his pain with…

Saemus looked up slowly, his smile fading as the pieces fell into place, "Hawke, where is Fenris?"

The man across from him lowered his eyes, "He… left, just a few hours ago." Then he met the younger man's gaze, "How did you know something was wrong?"

"I overheard your friend talking at the Hanged Man one time. Varric, I think it was?" Saemus pondered, "Anyway, he once said that you hid your pain through humor. Didn't think anything of it at the time, but now…"

"Your memory is quite amazing." Hawke smiled, "But you've nothing to worry about, I'm fine."

"Would you care to tell me what happened?" Saemus offered, laying on a smirk, "I mean, if you think my memory's impressive then my listening skills will blow you away."

Hawke smiled at that, "Alright."

They made their way upstairs and settled in his room, a fire brewing in the hearth that almost felt unnatural. Upon closer inspection, he realized that there was no tinder inside.

"Does your magic keep it lit?" Saemus asked, and Hawke nodded, "That's incredible."

"Thanks." He said, "You may also be interested to know that I've never taken a cold bath in my life. Neither has Bethany, my sister. She's a mage as well."

"I thought you had two siblings?" Saemus asked.

"Yes, the other is Carver." Hawke replied, "He's normal, so his baths were a bit chilly I'm afraid. Maybe that's why he hated Bethany and I so much."

"You think he hated you?" The boy raised a brow.

"I know there are three mages in our family, and he ran off to join the Templars." Hawke remarked, "It doesn't exactly convey adoration."

"Is Fenris magical as well?" Saemus inquired, "His hair is white as snow, and those markings..."

"Magical? Yes. But he's no mage." The man told him, "He's a warrior mostly, with a few perks."

"Does he… love you?"

Hawke hesitated at that.

"I had hoped so, despite everything that's wrong with the idea," Hawke sighed, "Now I'm not so sure."

"Well, I can't see why he wouldn't." Saemus comforted him, "Nor can I grasp why he would leave you."

"I… Pushed him. Too far, too fast." Hawke tried, "We'd never… spent the night together, until tonight, and when it was over he said it had dredged up memories that he thought he had lost." He paused, "For all that I would do to put his skeletons back in the closet, he believes he must do it alone."

"It's good that you love him, then." Saemus said, laying a hand on his thigh, "He may not see it now, but he needs you if he's going to survive his past. Not everything can be conquered alone."

"Sometimes I feel that I'm the only person he won't let close." Hawke confessed, "Not that he's close to anyone at all, but none of the others have _tried _to know him."

"Then why would you think he's just pushing you away?"

"Because I'm a mage." Hawke said, his eyelids closed but Saemus could feel the pain in the spheres that lay behind them, "Magic, in and of itself, disgusts him. Everything in his life that magic has touched has hurt him, utterly and completely."

"Do you think that's why he hadn't come to your bed?"

"I think it's why he hadn't come to me at all." Hawke said, gazing into the fire, "Every time I touched him he would flinch away as though I burned him. And maybe I did. The marks in his skin are lyrium, which reacts with mana."

They were silent for a moment, then Saemus spoke, "You said that magic has always hurt him. But you are a mage, and you haven't."

"I did tonight." Hawke said sadly, "I think… I let go when I was with him. I was a little less controlled, and perhaps I released more mana than I thought." The man pondered, "His markings did glow, I know he felt me… Maybe that's what dragged his memories to the surface."

"You can't blame yourself for that." Saemus argued, "If not you, then someone else would have brought them to his mind. It was only a matter of time."

"You think so?" Hawke said, his pale blue eyes locking their gaze.

Laying a hand on his shoulder, Saemus reassured him, "I know so."

Silence passed between them, and they sat for a moment, just watching the flames dance in their bed.

"I like you like this." Saemus told him.

"What, depressed? Utterly morose?"

"Real."

Hawke leaned forward, and Saemus closed his eyes, trusting the man even though he had no idea what to expect. But there was nothing to fear, as he simply pressed their foreheads together.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"For what?" Saemus asked.

"For being on my side." It was an homage to their earlier conversation, Saemus knew, and he cherished it. If no other person in the world understood him, Hawke did.

He broke their touch only to move closer, wrapping his arms around the older man's chest. Hawke embraced him as well, resting his head on the boy's shoulder. He couldn't remember the last time someone had just… held him that way.

"I love you, Saemus." Hawke sighed, and his tone harbored a sense of gentle affection, "Promise me, no matter what happens in this damned city, that you and I, we'll always be friends."

"Always." He promised, "If the Qunari have taught me only one thing, it is that even when you and I, and everyone we know have become dust, our bond will remain."

They pulled away, and Hawke stood, going to the bed. Saemus followed him, and as the older man lay on his side, he stretched out opposite him. Their heads were a bare inch apart, both of them curled up facing each other. He removed something from his pocket, and rolled it thoughtfully between his fingers. It was a pearl, Hawke recognized.

"You had that with you when we left the Wounded Coast that day." The mage noted.

"I found it with Ashaad." Saemus told him, "When he saw it he spoke of a story his people tell, about a man who spent his entire life searching for one."

"Would you tell it to me sometime?" Hawke's question resonated within him, and he realized it was the exact conversation he'd had with Ashaad. Pain filled him, and escaped in the form of tears that barreled down his cheeks.

"I never got to hear it." Saemus confessed, "But he said the story teaches us that 'a journey is just if it leads you to what you seek'."

"That in itself is beautiful." Hawke mused.

"That's what I thought." Saemus said, "I think it comforted me." A sigh escaped him, and felt the need to explain, "I spent my entire life feeling like an outcast among the people here, then I met him and my journey began. He's what I was seeking, Hawke."

"It doesn't have to end there." The mage said.

"I know." Saemus agreed, "Tomorrow an entirely new journey will begin for me." He met the man's eyes, and said, "Tomorrow I'm going to the compound. I want to go before the Arishok and avow myself as Viddathari. I want to convert to the Qun."

"Would it be alright if I came with you?" Hawke questioned.

Saemus smiled, "I was just about to ask."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note:

To clarify a later point: Elena Amell is Hawke's OC cousin, she sort of takes the role of F!Hawke, but is more of a background character. While Hawke is pro-templar, she is pro-mage, and as a result she is a close friend of Anders. She was also in a relationship with Isabela, which will be referenced in a brief discussion later.

* * *

The next morning they were up at dawn. Saemus borrowed some of Hawke's clothes, as the ones he'd worn the night before had become wrinkled when he slept. During the night he'd dreamt that Ashaad was holding him, and when he woke to find himself in Hawke's arms instead, he was grateful.

"You spoke to him in your sleep." The mage told him, and Saemus smiled at that.

Mornings in the compound were nothing to be excited about. The Qunari rose from their slumber and moved quickly to get started on the droll tasks that filled their days. As always, the Arishok sat atop his throne, watching his people move about with little interest.

Saemus' approach caught his attention. The giant stood and descended the steps to meet him- a gesture that caused many of the bustling oxmen to stop their work and watch.

"Ashaad is dead." Saemus declared, "He was killed while protecting me from a mercenary group who wished to return me to my father."

The Arishok did not speak, but merely listened.

"If you would allow it, I wish to swear myself to the Qun. Convert, and be named Viddathari."

"I believed your conversion would only come at my scout's behest." The Arishok said, "To see you accept the Qun alone is… surprising." The giant looked to Hawke and remarked, "You are right to award him respect, Hawke."

The mage simply nodded.

"What is your reason for choosing to join our people?" The Arishok questioned, his gaze scrutinizing.

"Nothing in my life was right until I met Ashaad." Saemus admitted, "He taught me much, and I truly believe the Qun is what I've been seeking."

"So it is." The Arishok said, his head bowing slightly, "Return tonight so that we may induct you into the ranks of Viddathari."

A smile crossed Saemus' lips, and he bowed, "Thank you, Arishok"

The giant turned to ascend the steps, and Hawke and Saemus headed towards the gates, but then the great horned man halted.

"Saemus" The boy turned to see the Arishok's eyes on him oncemore, "Ashaad was wise to take you as his bondmate, and the sacrifice he made will not be forgotten."

"Kost esaam kata, Arishok." Saemus said, and with that they departed.

* * *

They returned to the estate, as Saemus had no intention of going home. It was fine, Hawke had said, and that his door would always be open. Still the nobleman had work to do, and as they conversed Hawke was pulling on his gear, one piece at a time.

"You'll likely be gone when I return." Hawke stated, pulling on a new pair of trousers, "Will you make it to the compound alright?"

"Of course," Saemus laughed, "I've been all over this city, all I needed is my cloak."

"You know what I mean, Saemus. The situation here has become tense." He told him, "And when word gets out that you've converted, you can expect there will be trouble." Then added, "Just last week I had to put down a crazed elf who wanted to frame the Qunari, all because her kinsmen were turning to the Qun."

"I know." The boy sighed, "I heard my father talking about it. She set barrels of poison gas off in Lowtown, didn't she?"

"Yes, and… Saemus, I should encourage you to tell your father about this," Hawke spoke, and a grin crossed his lips, "But honestly, I have a list longer than my staff of things my mother doesn't know."

"Is that so?" Saemus raised a brow, "What's at the top?"

Hawke's smile grew soft, and he worked to adjust the pouch on his hip, "Letting her know that I'll never marry _any_ woman she chooses for me." Then added, "And the second thing from the top is telling her why."

"Well, I will tell him." Saemus said, "Eventually."

"Perhaps after the ceremony would be best." Hawke remarked, "Otherwise he may try and stop you."

Saemus nodded, "The induction is a private thing anyway. I doubt the Arishok would even let you attend."

"That's alright, I mean, the hard part's over now." Hawke shrugged.

"I couldn't have done this without you." The boy laughed, "Will you be up here in Hightown by yourself?"

"For the foreseeable future? Yes." Then added, "I had meant to ask: Are Viddathari allowed to leave the compound?"

"Yes, but I doubt I'll have much time." Saemus replied, "I know only a little of the Qunlat, so I'd guess that learning it will be the bulk of my day. Then there's religious studies, and absorbing the culture, and whatever tasks I'm given." His eyes fell on Hawke, who seemed saddened by this, "But there will also be personal time, and since my father won't wish to see his heathen son, I'll happily spend it with you."

"You'll take care of yourself, won't you?" Hawke asked, buttoning his shirt.

"Yes, now go on and have an adventure." Saemus smiled.

"You too." Hawke said, hugging him briefly. The mage turned to leave, grabbing his staff, then departing. He wanted to stay, to see him off, but it wouldn't be the last time they saw each other. Even if everything else changed, they would always be friends- that much he knew.

* * *

"Where are Varric and Anders?" Hawke asked the group, "I thought they were going to meet us here?"

"I haven't seen Varric all day." Elena shrugged, "Anders is on his way, and I should tell you… Isabela took ship last night."

"And Fenris went with her." They both turned to see Anders coming over to them, "I saw the two of them at the docks when I was… at the docks."

Elena knew full well that Anders had been smuggling more mages out of the city, a task she sometimes helped with. Hawke, on the other hand, was better known for following the rules: Mages were sent to the circle, and those that fought were killed unless they surrendered.

_"We can't expect the Templars to make an effort if we don't."_ Hawke would say, and though Anders believed his actions were futile, no one disagreed with him openly.

Still, the healer leaked suspicion often, but Hawke had learned that it was better not to ask.

"So they're both gone then?" Hawke asked, "I know why Fenris left, but…"

"If someone would like to explain what's going on, I'd be grateful." Anders quipped.

"First, have _you_ seen Varric?"

"Not since we went to the Keep." Anders replied.

That worried him a bit, but he swallowed it for the moment, "To answer your question, I asked more of him than he could give and he left." Hawke summarized, then the healer looked to Elena.

"That's pretty much what happened to me as well." She sighed, "I asked her for love. What did you ask for, Hawke?"

"For him to stay." Hawke replied sadly, but he recovered quickly. He had to. "Enough, we have work to do. Let's grab Merrill and Sebastian and get going."

"Ah yes, the blood mage and the Chantry boy." Anders gave a rough laugh, "I can see this going well."

* * *

Saemus left the mansion, saying goodbye to everyone inside before he went. It wasn't as though he was close to them, but without knowing when he would see them again, it just seemed the proper thing to do.

Once he stepped outside he could see the Keep clearly over the gabled roof-tops, and he considered seeing his father once more before handing his life over to the Qun, but he decided against it.

It was when he reached the docks that he realized he was being followed. A hooded figure took every turn that he did, and when he turned to face the fiend he found a familiar face hiding beneath the cloak.

"Sister Petrice" He hissed.

"That's Mother Petrice, actually." She corrected him, "Much has changed while you've been playing house with that heathen-"

"Either tell me why you're following me or I'll report you."

"What to the guard?" She snorted.

"No, to the Arishok." Saemus threatened, "A lot of strange things have been happening, and you always seem to turn up once they're done."

"Fine, though I bear no guilt, I am following you because I wish to stop you from making this mistake."

"You've already told me that I am lost to the Maker, dear Mother." Saemus said, "Has your god changed his mind, or have you forgotten?"

"No, I haven't." Petrice stated bluntly, "I simply wanted to give you one last chance to change your mind before you commit to this path."

"I am already committed." He told her, "And I shall not go back on my word."

He turned and left, and she didn't follow. How the woman knew of his intentions to convert, he couldn't guess. Hawke was the only on he'd told, and though he was Andrastian, he was perfectly certain that he hadn't been the one to tell her.

But it didn't matter, as the gates of the compound opened for him, he disappeared inside.

* * *

Hawke returned home near midnight and cleaned off just enough of the dirt and blood to feel content when he sank into bed. His missions were becoming increasingly difficult, he'd noticed, though he had no trouble drifting off to sleep.

There was no light in the sky yet, but the sound of someone pounding on Hawke's door had him staggering down the stairs with his robe halfway tied. He reached the threshold, staff in hand, and drew open the door cautiously.

There stood a beardless dwarf, soaking wet from the rain.

"Varric?" Hawke asked in disbelief, "What are you doing here? What time is it?"

"Remember how I told you I would check into something?" He asked, not really waiting for an answer, "Well I found something. That chantry sister, the one who had the Qunari mage?"

"The one who set us up" Hawke yawned.

"Yeah, Petrice." Varric said, "I found documents from her to that mercenary group who tracked Saemus on the wounded coast."

"The Winters?" The Champion followed.

"She hired them," Varric said, shoving a paper in his face. He took it, trying to force his eyes to focus, but they wouldn't, "Look! She knew he wasn't missing, and she told that bitch to kill the Qunari even if they surrendered!"

"Varric slow down." Hawke said, "And… Maker's breath, come inside."

"No Hawke, there's no time. Just listen." Varric continued, "My sources say she's the one who told the Seneschal that Saemus was on the Wounded Coast, she even told him about the Qunari, and-"

"How do you know she knew he wasn't kidnapped?" Hawke tried.

"She said so in the letter, didn't you look at it?" He was more alert now than before, but Varric didn't care, "Don't you get it, Hawke? The kid's in trouble!" That woke him up, "My guys saw her talking to him before he went into the compound yesterday, and I know something's up. I feel it in my gut."

Hawke felt it too.

"We have to go to the compound, and make sure he's still there." Hawke said, "Afterwards we'll go to the Grand Cleric. If you have proof of what you've told me, then maybe we can stop her before she does something drastic."

"You mean something more drastic?" Varric asked, "You don't have time to change, we need to go."

Lucky for him he'd thrown on his slippers.


	8. Chapter 8

It was raining cats and mabari, but they didn't stop. Hawke was exhausted, racing through Hightown like a madman until he reached Lowtown. He stopped briefly when Varric paused to decide which route to take, and thanked the Maker that he was in shape when they started to run again. They made it to the docks, and approached the compound gates.

"Your timing is inappropriate human, leave and come back when the sun has risen." The Qunari guard warned him.

"It is an emergency." Hawke declared, "Let us in!"

The gates opened for him, but he knew that no less than a dozen spears were trained on them as they entered. This would be a lot to explain to the Qunari, should Saemus be asleep in his bed.

"Arishok!" Hawke shouted. He stood in the center of their square, and Qunari guards began to move closer around him. Up the stairs was a large tent behind the bench where the Arishok usually perched. The man who emerged from it wore nothing more than his breeches, and stormed down the stairs with rage in his eyes.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" The Arishok seethed.

"Where is Saemus Dumar?"

"Asleep, with the other Viddathari."

"Take me to him." Hawke demanded, "His life is in danger and it is a matter of averting a crisis."

Each of them breathed heavily, their breath visible in the freezing rain. The Arishok gestured to two of his guards, and when they set off he returned his attention to Hawke and the dwarf.

"Remain here." He commanded them, and they did not argue.

A moment later his guards returned.

"He is gone." The first said. The Arishok simply stared at his men, his expression uncertain. Hawke was in disbelief as well, and he turned to Varric.

"Where would she have taken him?" Hawke asked.

"To repent." The dwarf exhaled, and a look of worry grew on his face.

* * *

They burst through the Chantry doors without warning, and Hawke's eyes hurriedly scanned the room. Relief washed over him when he saw Saemus, kneeling before Andraste's statue. He could barely make out his hands, folded together in prayer. The absurdity of what he'd seen didn't strike him until much later.

Hawke rushed up the steps and turned sharply to reach him, but what he found was something he'd never expected. He froze. Varric had gone up the other side, and halted as well once he saw them.

Saemus Dumar was on his knees, a dagger twisted into his chest. The way he gripped it with both hands had given the illusion of praying. Just as grief was about to consume the mage he saw that the boy was still breathing.

"Varric, get the Viscount, hurry!" He shouted, and the dwarf disappeared down the stairs.

Hawke ran to him, and collapsed by his side. Only then did Saemus notice him.

"Hawke" He gasped, his face wet from crying, hesitating to let go of the dagger, "It hurts to speak, but if it comes out…"

"I know." The older man said, he placed a hand on his chest, studying the wound.

They were alone, and Anders was too far out of reach.

"You're a mage, Hawke, can you heal it?"

"No, I… To heal you I would have to pull it out and…" Hawke was breathless, overwhelmed with tears, "It won't work fast enough, I…" He couldn't contain the whimper. Feeling utterly useless, he confessed, "I can't save you."

"Yes, you can." Saemus reassured him, "I want you to try."

"No, Saemus!" He watched as the dagger slid out, and fell to the ground. It was as if he'd opened a flood gate, as blood began pouring out of the wound at an alarming rate. Saemus fell on his side, and Hawke quickly rolled him onto his back.

He positioned his hands over the wound, and began to beg, "In the name of Andraste, please."

A faint light appeared in his hands, growing brighter then fading, and going out completely. He struggled, illuminating once more only to have it go out again.

"No" He cried, and inside he screamed at himself to focus, to stop being afraid, and to remember how much he loved Saemus.

The glow was barely visible, but it was lit.

Varric came rushing up the stairs with the Viscount on his heels.

"Saemus!" The man said, his resolve breaking a little more with every step, "Maker, no!"

He fell to his knees beside his son.

"Father" Saemus groaned, "You… came. You don't… hate me?"

"No, Saemus, my darling boy…" He cried, "I could never hate you, you're my son."

A single tear ran down Saemus' cheek.

"I love you." The boy smiled.

"I love you too, son." The Viscount's breath trembled.

Saemus looked to Hawke, who was still trying furiously to keep his magic alive.

"Hawke." At his call the mage looked at him, their blue eyes mirroring each other, "Kost asaam kata... I am with Ashaad."

A ragged breath escaped him as he watched the boy's eyes roll shut. He was gone.

Hawke stood and staggered back, leaving the Viscount to mourn his son. Just as he felt his back press against the railing, the Seneschal came through the door with Anders at his side. Hawke stared down at him, his eyes so ridden with pain that Anders knew at once: He was too late. Still, the healer ran to him, charging up the steps.

Just as he reached Hawke a figure emerged from the shadows behind Andraste's image.

"I saw the whole thing your grace." Hawke lifted his gaze to see Petrice, watching him intently. In that moment, he felt nothing, save for the cold that spread through him, "Serah Hawke killed him with that blade" she pointed to the dagger that lay bloody on the floor, "The boy had come to repent, and he killed him!"

As her words sank in, the cold inside Hawke was eradicated and fire blossomed in its place. It nearly consumed him, but then the Viscount stood. Tears were pooled in the shallow space beneath his eyes, a mark of age and the sleep he'd lost fearing over a thing such as this.

"That is a lie." The Viscount said blankly, and Petrice looked taken aback, "Serah Tethras told me everything as he led me here."

The Grand Cleric appeared to the right, Sebastian beside her.

"I don't know what you're implying, your grace." Petrice told him, "I had nothing to do with this! I did not kill him!" Small flames ignited at Hawke's feet.

"That I believe. You would never soil your hands," The Viscount said, stepping closer to her, "But I know you are the architect of this, and you will be punished."

"Your grace-!" He simply stared at her, then turned to leave.

The Viscount stopped only briefly, nodding to Hawke, then continued down the steps and away from his son's corpse.

With that gesture, flames engulfed the mage. His eyes glowed and long fingers of flame crept out of his mouth and nose. Neither Anders nor Sebastian had ever seen him this way, and just as he was about to unleash his fire on Petrice, the Grand Cleric intervened.

"There will be no more death in this house of the Maker!" She shouted.

Anders grabbed Hawke's wrist, and as he fought down the flames it was as if he were fighting every ounce of his very being into submission.

Once he had calmed, something sped past him. An arrow buried in the priest's chest. Petrice gasped, and was reaching up to grasp it when another pierced her forehead. The mother fell back, landing at the feet of Andraste's image.

In the shadows, a Qunari scout sheathed his bow and disappeared into the darkness. The Grand Cleric looked on, seemingly uncaring, then descended the steps opposite the Viscount.

It was over.

* * *

When Hawke returned to the Qunari compound, he did so with a heavy heart. He told the Arishok of what had occurred, and warned him that people would likely lay blame at his feet. In turn he was informed that, in a week's time, the Arishok had intended to give Saemus the title 'Ashkaari', meaning 'the one who seeks'. When he was about leave, Hawke hesitated, then spoke, "May I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What Saemus said to you, before we left the compound the day of his induction into the Viddathari." Hawke tried, "He said it to me as well, just before he died."

"Kost esaam kata." The Arishok told him.

"What does it mean?"

"In your tongue it would be, 'There is peace in death'."

Hawke closed his eyes briefly, nodding slowly, then thanked him and departed.

He returned home and went to his room, unsure if he wished to sit and think or sleep to heal his aching heart. He set his staff by the dresser, where something caught his eye. He hadn't noticed it the night before, but there was a note, and on its surface lay a small shining pearl.

Hawke took it into his palm, and read the letter below.

* * *

_My friend,_

_I want you to have this. Someday I will learn the story of the man and the pearl, and when I do I will tell it to you. Sometimes the people we love must go, but please keep this as a reminder that a piece of them lives within us forever. _

_ - Saemus Dumar_

* * *

Rolling the pearl between his fingertips, he recalled what Saemus had said to him during the night that they were together: _It teaches us to cherish what we hold dear, and that a journey is just if it leads you to what you seek._

Neither of them would ever know the story, Hawke realized. Tears that had collected in his eyelashes dripped down onto his cheeks, and his lip quivered as he affirmed the promise he had made.

He spoke deliberately, "Even when you and I, and everyone we know, have become dust, our bond will remain."


	9. Epilogue

"And you're sure that was _exactly_ how it happened?" The woman asked, her accent thick, "How can you be sure if you weren't there?"

"Because, Seeker, it was all written in the journal that was found in the compound." Varric assured her, "Saemus had written it all, from their first meeting up until the night he was kidnapped."

"And there's nothing you've left out?"

"Not even the most intimate details. You know, the ones that made you blush?" Varric teased, and the woman paced away.

"It is… tragic, what happened to the boy." Cassandra mused, "You tell the story well."

"Because it needed to be told." Varric said, shifting in his seat, "People need to know that the Chantry was responsible; That a Mother killed the Viscount's son. Kirkwall was driven to war because they couldn't understand."

"I will make sure that it is not forgotten." She sighed, "But for now, you must continue. I'm sure there's much left to tell."

"More than you can imagine." Varric chuckled, then started again.

* * *

Author's Note:

Writing this story has been a wonderful experience for me. It started out as a small drabble with the purpose of capturing the love between two vastly different characters, and it quickly blossomed into the full scale story that you've just read. Thank you so much for your support, and while the story of Saemus and Ashaad is at its end, there is still much left to tell. If you enjoyed this, please rate and respond, and keep checking back for more Dragon Age fanfiction!


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